Worth Fighting For
by Naisa
Summary: '"Go back home and stay there," Babet ordered, trying to drag Gavroche away from the barricade, but the little boy stood his ground. "This is my home!" Gavroche said defiantly.' A short one-shot about the last conversation Gavroche had before he fell on the barricade. Please R


_I went to see the play Les Mis in London a few days ago, I've seen it before but that didn't stop it from blowing me away! Has to be the best musical ever! :D_

_Anyway, when I watched it, I saw that in Act Two when they were fighting against the French soldiers, Babet was the only man who looked truly affected by the death of the little boy Gavroche. After that, an idea for a short one shot popped up in to my head, and, well, here it is. It's a little short, but I hope you like it! Please review (:_

Worth Fighting For

The echoing gunfire ceased for a few, precious minutes, but the madness was not over. Gavroche stood on the makeshift barricade, watching men run along below him, determined, brave, yet panicking in the heat of the battle. Gavroche had never felt so alive in his short little life, all his senses were tingling and he was so desperate to jump down and help his fellow men in the fight for freedom.

Shouts travelled across the barricade:

"We're low on gunpowder!"

"We need more ammunition!"

"We need more bullets!"

Gavroche had peered over the other side of the barricade and had seen bodies, dead military men with their guns now lying useless beside them, their spare ammunition no use to them any more. If someone dared to tread over the barricade during this short time of silence where no guns were being fired, they would have the choice to pick whatever they wanted from the dead soldiers.

As Gavroche watched the commotion around him, it seemed that someone had already though of the idea and suggested it, but the offer had been turned down. Such an idea was suicide. Bullets would cut them down as soon as they inched their way over the barricade.

But what if you were small? Small enough to perhaps sneak over the barricade without being noticed?

Gavroche grinned the same grin he had when he got an idea in his head to help out, something else to prove what great things little people can do. He grabbed a leather bag that was lying beside him, and was about to climb over the barricade when a large hand suddenly clamped down on his arm.

"What are you doing Gavroche?" Demanded a gruff voice that Gavroche knew well and that already knew what Gavroche was doing.

Gavroche looked up into the dark eyes of Babet, which were unusually stern and filled with worry. For once there wasn't a drink in his hand. The tall, heavily built man towered over the little boy, but Gavroche was not afraid of his friend.

"They said they need more ammunition," Gavroche explained, trying to shake off Babet's iron grip, but it was no good.

"Didn't they say that mothers and children had to leave the barricade before their lives were wasted?" Babet pointed out, raising his voice so he could be heard above the cries of other men.

Gavroche shrugged casually, as if he couldn't see his friend's fear. "Nah, you'll always need little people."

For once, Babet wasn't going along with Gavroche's jokes and good humour. He had already seen blood spilt in this battle, and it was far from over. Babet had always kept his eye on Gavroche as he ran around the slums that were his home, always causing trouble but always getting away with it. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. Over time, Babet found himself attached to the witty young lad, he was appreciative of the help Gavroche gave as a messenger, but this was a step too far. Babet did not want to see a boy so young fight in such a deadly battle, and he could not let Gavroche go on such a suicidal mission.

"Go back home and stay there," Babet ordered, trying to drag Gavroche away from the barricade, but the little boy stood his ground.

"This _is_ my home!" Gavroche said defiantly, finally shaking free of Babet's grip.

"This is no game Gavroche!" Babet hissed, "you will get yourself killed!"

Babet had watched Gavroche grow up in the slums, and felt like he was the closest thing Gavroche had ever had to a father. He could not just stand there was watch the boy, who was still so young, die.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you!" Babet told Gacroche as the boy started climbing over the barricade again. He grabbed the back of Gavroche's shirt before he could go any further.

"I refuse to carry on living in a world ruled by _them_!" Gavroche snapped back, and by 'them' Babet knew he meant the French aristocrats who didn't seem to notice how their fellow men were suffering and dying beneath their feet. Gavroche knew very well, he had lived among it, it was enough to make the blood of any man boil.

"There's still hope for the future Gavroche," Babet implored him, "but if you climb over that barricade you'll be shot dead!" He knew that the French soldiers would not care if their target was a man, a child or a dog, they would shoot at anything that moved.

"At least I'll die for something worth fighting for!" Gavrcohe shouted, and with that he shook himself free of Babet's grip and before Babet could stop him, Gavroche had climbed over the barricade and disappeared.

As the third gun-shot rattled through the silence, Babet knew he would never see Gavroche again.


End file.
